


Identity

by purple_cube



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Porn Battle XIV, for the prompt 'start over'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identity

 

He had found her in Berlin. She didn’t say a word, and neither did he as he followed her into the apartment, barely waiting for the door to click shut before he pushed her against it. They had fucked right there on the floor, fierce and unrelenting, apologies and acknowledgements and admissions lost in the aggression.  
  
Even now, weeks later, they exchange few words, and he only ever half-expects to find her beside him in the morning. He knows that he wants her - _needs_ her – more than she does him.  
  
And maybe she will leave, and maybe he’ll be alright with that. But for now, she’s right here with him, and his mind and body yield effortlessly to her touch.  
  
In these weeks, he’s noticed that she likes candles. His eyes grow accustomed to the sight of her candlelit silhouette gliding toward him, pressing him onto the bed. His shirt is already off, and she holds his gaze as she unzips his pants and slides them over his raised ass and below his knees. He’s barely kicked them off when she reaches behind for the zipper to her dress, and he impatiently leans forward to help. Together they lift the garment up and over her head, and he can’t help himself as he nips at her exposed breast. He only has a moment though, before her arms are free once more and she pushes him unceremoniously back onto the mattress. They kiss, rough and deep and insistent, bodies grinding in rivaling desperation.  
  
She lifts herself off of him then, and onto her feet as she pulls his boxers toward the floor. He rises onto his elbows as she removes her own underwear, trying to commit the sight of her to his memory as if it’s the last time.  
  
“Turn over,” she demands as she steps forward once more.  
  
He does so without hesitation.  
  
From the corner of his eye, he watches her reach for the half-worn candle that rests on the bedside table. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s been lit for a couple of hours, and his body tenses in anticipation of what is to come.  
  
She settles on top of him, a knee on either side of his hips. He can feel her rub herself on his ass, and he lets out a small groan, longing to touch her.  
  
“Don’t move,” she warns, as if reading his thoughts.  
  
And then she begins, the molten wax dripping from the candle holder and onto his skin. Fire roars through every inch of his body.  
  
The pain is sharp, but not intolerable. When the initial sensation fades, his mind registers that the candle is moving in a deliberate pattern.  
  
First it rises in a vertical line, from the small of his back up to his left shoulder blade. Then, it hovers across to the right and down to make a semi-circle, before repeating the pattern once more downward and back to the starting point.  
  
 _The letter B_.  
  
She shifts above him, and he knows that she’s done. From his peripheral vision, he sees the candle come into view and to a rest on the table.  
  
The mattress dips to one side as she rises from the bed and makes her way to the window. She unfastens the lock and pushes the pane out, letting in a cool spring breeze that makes his breath catch in his throat when it reaches the wax on his back.  
  
She lingers at the window long enough for him to want to speak, to ask her what she wants from him. But he hesitates, and she makes the decision for him when she returns, a smile tugging at her lips as she surveys her handiwork.  
  
He reaches an arm out and pulls her down beside him, and she doesn’t protest when he covers her body with his. He kisses her with all of the ferociousness of that first reunion, and she claws wildly at the hardened wax on his back.  
  
She cries out when he pushes into her, nails digging deeper into his skin. And then he moves, and she matches him in every way, as she has done since the moment they first met. She continues to claw at him, at the wax, and he thrusts faster and harder until he loses control.  
  
He climaxes with a shout, eyes locked on hers. Her hands fall from his shoulders and one starts to slip between their bodies – before he catches her wrist. Giving her a small shake of the head, he slips lower, trailing kisses along her breast and stomach, tasting her.  
  
And then he settles between her legs and tastes _them_. She groans, hands fisting in his hair as he licks and sucks at her swollen clitoris. Her hips rock against his face, impatient and increasingly erratic. He holds off long enough for her to cry out in frustration – and then he bites down hard, bringing her to her climax with a shout to rival his own.  
  
Her legs shake around him, and he licks and caresses her back down until her body stills. And then he rests his head on her stomach, feeling the rise and fall of her chest above him, acutely aware of the tenderness of the moment.  
  
Later, he makes his way back to the head of the bed, and she shifts beside him to lay on her front. He moves onto his side to face her, and they simply watch each other for a while. Not for the first time, he wonders how long this will last. He thinks of who they are now, and of who they used to be. He thinks of Batman and Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle – and of how they no longer exist. He thinks of the letter B.  
  
“What does it stand for?” he asks quietly.  
  
A knowing smile lingers in the candlelight. “Whoever you want to be.”  
  
“I want to be me.”  
  
Her eyes gleam, and he remembers this from Gotham; unwavering and unrepentant in everything she does. And for the first time, he thinks that maybe she _will_ stay, that he’s not the only one that wants this. Wants _them_.  
  
“Then that’s what it stands for.”

 


End file.
